25th anniversary review: Good Riddance – “Ballads From The Revolution”

This review is part of a series looking back at significant albums on their anniversaries. Through the benefit of hindsight we will be viewing the album not just as it was released, but how it stands the test of time, as well as its place in the band’s discography and the genre in general.

Fat Wreck Chords – 10 February 1998

“Stop throwing your fists, put out your hand”

Good Riddance may not have been the first vulnerable hardcore band I heard but the Santa Cruz quartet were definitely one of the most widely accessible with regular touring at venues that were local and affordable. 

There’s a political side of course, and do I credit Russ Rankin’s lyrics for helping me eschew the conservative, half-assed Catholic traditions in my home. Good Riddance helped open the door to progressive thought. If not for bands like Good Riddance, I do believe I’d be one of those morons on Facebook, spouting off on conspiracy theories with the stubborn confidence of a toddler and IQ to match.   I believe my father would say they helped turn me into pinko commie scum, I think a more accurate description is it turned me into a responsible adult with empathy and decency, but that’s a debate for a Thanksgiving table not here. 

While Operation Phoenix will always remain my favorite GR record, Ballads is their perfect record.  This is the album I would play for someone to show off the band’s strengths and abilities.

More important than the political overtones, the band and this LP in particular, served as a gateway to both melodic hardcore and to the ability to accept and embrace my own vulnerability.  Rankin’s penchant to wear his heart on his sleeve was inspiring and remains so to this day. The true revolutionary arc to this album was its ability to buck societal norms, in all facets of life.  This is the album that perfected the duality of Good Riddance’s lyrics, the flawless combination of political and social angst.  

At a time when emo was a slur, and hardcore was being overrun by meathead “crews” intent on making a scene not being part of one, Rankin and team skipped the labels and played with their hearts.  

Sure, the musicianship of Chuck Platt, Luke Pabich and Sean Sellers skewed toward the melodic hardcore sound, but the lyrics defy pigeon-holing.  “Oh you think this is a political record? Well, check out these songs, ‘Jeannie’ and ‘Not With Him’  about unrequited desires.” “Salt” and “Understood” spoke to those of us concerned about a scene that’s lost its way. 

The Santa Cruz quartet have an uncanny ability to switch from melodramatic love songs to aggressive political punk, from early 90’s West Coast hardcore to the melodic precursors to late 90’s emo-pop.  I recently read an article (and I do not recall where) but it made a compelling case that the mid-00s era of pop-punk/emo deserves credit for removing the stigma related to mental health.  It was a well-developed stance and hard to deny that those bands in that era made it OK to say you were not Okay (trust me).  If that is the case though, Ballads was one of the albums that influenced  those bands to that openness about being mentally unwell.  This band, this record, set the stage for lyricists to be vulnerable and not hide their thoughts behind false facades of hardcore stereotypes about toughness.  

Ballads challenged the stereotypes and helped facilitate the shift in the community toward honesty and heart.  Good Riddance (along with labelmates No Use for A Name and Lagwagon) helped advance the mental health discussion in a part of the scene that hadn’t really seen much of it before.  Their legacy, the legacy of this record will forever be linked to its sincerity and openness. Every heart-on-their-sleeve punk owes a debt of gratitude to this record.